


Deep Breaths

by 401



Series: Fixing Winter [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Awesome Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes Feels, Flashbacks, Hydra (Marvel), Kissing, M/M, Medical Trauma, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Running Away, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 13:38:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4393985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/401/pseuds/401
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky has to choose whether to learn how to be Bucky, or to dive back into winter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flashback

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit longer. Suicidal ideation comes in so keep yourself safe.

_Bucky groaned in discontent as his body was dropped awkwardly onto the plastic covered, grease and antiseptic-smelling medical chair. The leather underneath the plastic was dark brown, and god knew what stains it hid. One of the doctors, Bucky did not know his name, stuck a couple of latex coated fingers into the side of Bucky’s mouth, between his cheek and his teeth. The sudden intrusion enraged him and he bit down, growling in pain and frustration. Another doctor clasped his nose in his fingers until he was forced to release his jaws. Rubbery fingers were replaced with a brown tube, also rubber. It looked like the rubber on one of those things a baby sucks on, Bucky thought. A pacifier, that was the word._

_The Winter Soldier struggled, trying to shift his head back as far as he could to avoid the inevitable but his shoulders were being held by sets of hands that Bucky was too drugged to count._

_“Deep breaths, Sergeant Barnes,” This man he did know: Zola. Sick bastard._

_The tube shuddered into motion, sliding back and down Bucky’s throat. It ached and burned and he was racked by stifled gags. His nose and mouth filled with the smell and taste of plastic and vomit. It felt like the steady pumping motion of the tube would not stop. Bucky tried to scream. A dull gurgle was all he managed. Bucky’s stomach felt cold as the tube filled him with something thick and grey, like paint. And then it was done. The doctor that Bucky did not know slid the tube out. Bucky made a wet hiccup as the rubber disengaged and the scream he had been fighting finally tore from his lungs._

“Bucky, sweetheart!” Steve shook the soldier gently, “Wake up, you’re okay I promise.”

The screams kept coming, no amount of Steve’s comfort was breaking the haze. Bucky opened his eyes and choked as gasp, patting his throat. He could breath. No tubes, no Hydra. Just Steve and their bedroom and him, covered in sweat and shivering.

“Shhhh,” Steve soothed, “Another nightmare, babe, deep breaths.”

_“Deep breaths, Sergeant Barnes.”_

A wave of nausea-inducing anxiety knocked through Bucky. Then anger, anger like someone had injected fire into his veins. Not at Steve for sounding like Zola, but at Zola, for getting his slimy tendrils of pure evil into his memories. He could remember every word Zola had said to him, every touch of his chubby little hands, every blood test and injection and memory wipe that he had heard the sick fuck order for him. But then he could barely remember anything about the people who he loved, who had never hurt him. Bucky felt cheated and violated.

_“Fuck, it hurts,” Bucky screamed, “It HURTS, goddamit, STOP.”_

_Zola chuckled, pushing another thick screw into the severed stump of his arm._

_“Do not worry, Sergeant,” he had said, “We will wipe you up afterwards. Nice and tidy.”_

_He would die if the pain got any worse, he was sure of it. There was no way his body could do this for any longer. Did he have any blood left, or had they taken that too? He would not have been surprised; his head was swimming._

_“Please…I’m begging you, stop,” Barely any sound came out of Bucky’s mouth, he was silently screaming, air just hissing through his tear-strangled throat._

_His face should have flushed with the effort but he was pale, he had nothing left. Unconsciousness hit him like an answered prayer and his vision tunnelled and went dark._

 

“Stay with me, Bucky,” Steve ordered.

He was just sitting now, his screams had faded but his face was one of horror and desperation. He was mouthing Steve’s name, shaking his head slightly. Sweat ran down his neck and his t-shirt clung to him with it. The metal arm was whirring, pulsing like a second metallic heartbeat.

These flashbacks were happening less often, but they were worse when they did. Bucky would be fine for days and then he would crumble like he was now, leaving him exhausted and jumpy afterwards. He would sit, blank and empty, immune to anything Steve tried to make him come back to the present.

Steve pressed his lips to the bridge of Bucky’s nose, on the permanent little pink dent caused by wearing the Winter Soldier mask. He looked into Bucky’s eyes. They were darker, like they always were when he was angry and rimmed with red. His face was flushed and damp with tears, his forehead hot. Bucky was raw.

 

 


	2. Sinking

The movements were as mechanical as the arm that was completing them. Colt. Glock. Automatic. Knives, three sizes. Bucky packed the weapons and ammunition into the rows of pockets on the protective vest he had worn on the helicarrier. The routine was calming, pleasurable even. He knew it was purely down to the fact that it was mindless to him, unlike anything else he tried to do these days.

Steve stirred in his sleep, making a little whimper of a stretch and turning onto his front before falling back into deep stillness. Bucky relaxed, but then he couldn’t stop looking at who he was leaving behind. The man who had walked him back from every ledge, metaphorical and literal. The man who had put up with all his shit over and over. The only man that Bucky had never stopped wanting, not really, not ever. 

Bucky swallowed tears as he pulled on the vest over his undershirt along with combat pants and sneakers.

He walked over to the bed, using all of his stalk training to navigate the dark room without waking the Captain. The dull thud of his heart in his ears pared with the tension of holding back the emotion that was threatening every system of his body made his temples feel like they were gripped in a vice.

“You be good, Stevie,” Bucky whispered into the Captain’s sleeping shoulder.

He smelled his smell and felt his warmth for one last time before leaving the apartment and surrendering himself to the cold once more. The streets were dark and empty.

He started to sprint, channelling the urge to scream and tear apart the concrete into the fastest run he could manage. Salty rage streaked his cheeks and blew into his hair as the wind attacked him.

He was sinking into ice again, and he was not about to take Steve with him.


	3. Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I use really short chapters, much apology

“You feeling a bit better?” Steve asked Bucky, dull with sleep.

He did not get a reply and he was not sure if he expected one. Silence was Bucky’s shield. Steve reached out to rub Bucky’s back. His hand hit cool sheets.

Steve sat up in his empty bedroom. Nothing. No sound from the bathroom.

“Buck?” Steve called out. More nothing.

He hauled himself up and checked the living room. It was empty, just like the rest of the apartment. Panic rose in the Captain’s chest as he noticed that all of Bucky’s combat gear, the vest, the weapons and the mask were not on the chair that they usually sat on. Steve internally called it the ‘naughty step’, even though he’d never admit that to Buck. Another four thorough searches of the apartment confirmed to Steve what he knew. Bucky was gone.

Steve picked up his phone with trembling hands, clumsy and too urgent. He dialled the first number he thought of.

“Cap?” Sam Wilson’s voice was thick with sleep, “This better be good, man.”

Steve sighed shakily. Sam heard the fear and sobered himself.

“Get the suit Sam, he’s gone.”

Sam swung his legs over the edge of his own bed, eyeing the Falcon Pack in the corner of his room.

“I got you, Steve,” He promised, “It’s on.”


	4. Back to the Bridge

Steve mounted his bike, shield strapped to his back. The rev of the engine comforted him as he pushed off, the vibrations coursing up his arms and grounding him. He levelled his breathing, sucking in and hissing out slower than he wanted to try and calm himself. His eyes darted over every sidewalk he passed, looking for dark hair, the sheen of that metal arm. He scanned rooftops too, looking for a swift dart of black. A sickening hit of false hope twanged in his chest as Sam flew into his peripheral vision, metal wings, not a metal arm.

“You good Cap?” The Falcon called out, nose diving so that he was keeping up with Steve on eye level. He did not register the honks of horns or stares and points.

Steve shook his head.

“I should’ve known”- Steve couldn’t finish. He chewed down on his lip to stop his voice breaking further.

Sam nodded understandingly. He had seen Cap with that soldier. He knew the pain he was feeling was no crush.

“Where are we going, Cap?” Sam asked, willing for him to call the shots.

Steve pictured the place that he knew Bucky would end up, having no real memories of this century and an urge to give in to his brainwashing. 

“We’re going to the bridge.”


	5. Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the one with the suicide mentions, please stay cautious

_Just fucking jump, do Steve a favour for once,_ Bucky thought as he stood on the derelict bridge he had fought the Captain on months earlier. There was a gaping hole in front of him, metal struts of the bridge’s foundations sticking out of the concrete like exposed nerves. It reminded him of his arm, before all of the metal, jagged and messy.

 _I know how you feel, buddy,_ he thought, then frowned, laughing at himself for standing up there, armed to the teeth and talking to a fucking bridge. He walked to the edge and jumped up onto the raised railing. Looking down at the water, he remembered. Throwing Natasha across cars, hearing people rush to get away from him. Seeing that confused and childishly hopeful face Steve had pulled when he had recognised him, a face that had affected Bucky so deeply, yet he had flung his stupid metal hand at it anyway. He looked at his hand, wanting to rip it off and throw in into the icy water below his dangling feet.

_This is what you wanted, wasn’t it, Zola?_

Of course it was. Chaos to the point of control. He had caused so much chaos in Bucky’s head that he was driven to killing and voiding himself of any comfort or company just for a bit of control. Bucky put his head in his hands, pushing on the pressure point below his ear until his head buzzed. The tickling pain made his legs weaken. He loved it, it was the closest thing he could find to being drunk now that that wasn’t an option for him. He had made Steve do it once, but he had stopped when he saw the bruise rising under his fingers.

 _You lost the right to think about him when you walked out on him,_ Bucky thought to himself. He removed his fingers from the pressure point angrily. The buzzing continued. He thudded his ear with the heel of his hand. Still buzzing. It wasn’t his ears anymore. It was that flying guy, Steve’s friend. Sam.

“You got the Cap real worried you know,” Sam stated, landing carefully but confidently, and sitting on the edge of the bridge next to Bucky.

Bucky frowned, wondering where Steve actually was, he looked over Sam’s shoulder but saw no sign of the blonde anywhere.

“Tell him not to for me,” Bucky mumbled, “He shouldn’t have to.”

Sam sighed. Looking at the man next him, he wondered how Steve did not look into those eyes every day and feel a little bit of fear. This was still the Winter Soldier. Bucky sounded far too soft for the dark-eyed, tired and ruthless looking hitman with a cybernetic arm sitting on the edge of a bridge contemplating taking his own life and now, probably Sam’s.

“Look, brother,” Sam started, “I know you’ve been through hell, we all do, but I know your head is not far enough up your ass to think that Steve will stop worrying about you.”

Bucky coughed a laugh. He liked Sam. He did not have a particular reason but he did.

“So you got one choice,” Sam lowered his voice, putting a sincere hand on Bucky’s shoulder, “You can jump into that water, that cold-ass, shit-dirty water, and let Hydra win, or you can come with me, see Steve and make this right because he is never, no matter how much better it would make you feel, move on if you jump.”

Bucky nodded. He swung his legs back onto the bridge and walked with Sam, over to the end of the bridge. He broke into a sprint, falling straight into the warm, much needed embrace of the blonde on the motorcycle.


	6. Return

“Thank you, Sam,” Steve smiled, “Seriously.”

Sam shrugged before turning to the Winter Soldier, who was sitting perched on the Captain’s motorcycle, now parked outside their apartment.

“Aye, Buck?” Sam called, Bucky turned, looking tired. 

“I’m gonna’ let you go because lord knows you owe Steve some mad apology-sex for scaring him so bad.”

Steve winced, blushing.

“And I don’t want to be here when it goes down,” Sam continued, walking away, “Or when you do, even.”

Bucky laughed, genuinely, before waving at Sam. Sam struck a salute before flying off.

Steve put his arm around Bucky before walking him back into the apartment.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Bucky muttered, feeling like an apology was nowhere near enough. 

Steve pulled Bucky into the elevator and kissed him hard. Angry and relieved and exhausted all at the same time. Bucky’s lips couldn’t keep up. He stopped trying and let Steve pin him to the wall. Steve anchored his hand on the back of Bucky’s head and deepened his movements biting the soldier’s lips till they were red. He let go, sighing.

“I forgive you,” Steve said calmly.

Of course he did. Always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was too tired to proof read sorry please tell me how I did

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it I was very tired.


End file.
